Chapter 4
I follow Miranda up the stairs. When we are on the second floor of the house and Eliza and Philip are out of earshot, I turn to my best friend.
"Six words," I tell her in a low voice. "We. Are. Staying. With. The. Hamiltons!"
Miranda and I lock eyes. Then we start bouncing up and down at the top of the stairs.
"This is so amazing!" Miranda squeals. "This is so awesome! I literally cannot believe this! We are the two luckiest girls in the whole world! We got to travel to the past and literally change history!"
At those words, our smiles fade.
"Do you think there will be consequences?" I murmur to her. "After all, we changed history. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that."
"What's the worst that can happen?" Miranda says thoughtfully. "We saved a life. We did a good thing."
"True," I sigh. "But… well, I'm still worried."
"Don't worry, Kay," Miranda says, patting me on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. Saving the life of Philip Hamilton shouldn't change anything too much. At most, a few songs from the Hamilton musical will change since he's not dead. That's all."
"Right," I say. "Everything will be perfectly fine."
Miranda gives me a thumbs-up. "Come on, let's find a room for us."
I survey the hallway. The steps are placed in the back end of the hallway, where we're standing. The hallway isn't carpeted, but the wooden floor looks polished and smooth. On the left side of the hallway are three doors, and on the right side are two more doors. All the way down the hallway there's an open door leading to a small bathroom.
"So… where should we stay?" Miranda asks.
"I feel kind of weird just barging into someone's room and deciding to sleep there," I admit. "Isn't that rude?"
Miranda shrugs. "I mean, Eliza told us to choose a room. Besides, we just saved the life of one of their family members."
"True," I agree. Still, though, I felt a bit guilty.
"Okay," Miranda says, taking a step into the hallway. She pushes open the first door on the right. "What about this room?"
I come to the doorway and peek inside. Two twin beds are separated by a small nightstand. There's a tiny little wardrobe, but not much else.
"Perfect," I tell her. "We can share it."
We both step into the room. I gently shut the door behind us and turn around to see that Miranda has already seated herself on the edge of one of the beds. I cross the room and perch on the other bed. The blankets are thin and warm, and there are no pillows, but I'm still extremely grateful for Eliza's generosity.
"How are we going to get back?" Miranda wonders.
Her question hangs heavily in the air.
"I… don't know…" I falter. I haven't thought really thought of it before. I'm just awestruck that we traveled to the past… but going back to the future? Panic bubbles inside me. I struggle to push it down. We'll find a way to get back home. We have to.
"I'm a little scared," Miranda realizes. I turn to her. She's staring at the ground. "I mean," she continues, "this is just so cool, you know? How many people get to go back in time, meet their role models, and change history? That's incredible. But… what if we can't go back home? This is crazy. What if we get stranded in the past forever?"
"That won't happen," I assure her, trying to sound braver than I feel. "We just need to enjoy this while it lasts. We'll figure it out."
"I hope so," Miranda says, but her voice is doubtful.
"Just be glad our T-shirts don't say their names on it," I joke. I nearly forgot we were wearing Hamilton shirts- but the shirts are simply black with the gold Hamilton star on them. There's no writing, so we're safe.
"True," Miranda says with a small smile. She hops off the bed. "Come on. Let's go back downstairs and see if Eliza and Philip have had any progress in baking that pie."
I grin and follow her out of the bedroom. We make our way down the stairs, through the living room, and to the kitchen.
It's a nice kitchen, I have to admit. Sunlight streams in through the open windows, lighting up the whole room. The wooden floor looks like it was recently sweeped, and there's a dark, glossy round table in the center of the room. To the left of the room is a small oven, which Eliza is hunched over. She faces us, holding a silver tray. I peer inside the tray. She's made a pie; it's slightly blackened, but still looks amazing.
"Hungry?" Eliza asks with a smile. She sets the pie in the center of the table and busies herself with pulling plates out of a cabinet that's next to the oven.
"A bit," Miranda says. I nod. We hadn't eaten since before we watched the Hamilton musical… and that felt like ages ago.
We sit down in the chairs surrounding the table as Eliza slices the pie.
"Where's Philip?" I ask her.
"He went to the market to buy some eggs," Eliza answers. "We ran out. Hopefully he grabs some milk while he's there, if it's cheap."
I nod. Eliza sets a steaming plate of pie in front of me. There's a small fork sticking out of the dessert. I take a bite.
"This is great, Eliza," I say honestly.
"Mmm-hmm," Miranda agrees, her mouth full of food.
Eliza beams. "Thank you, girls," she says.
We finish our meal in a comfortable silence.
As we're clearing our plates, the door to the house bursts open.
I whirl around just as Philip zips into the kitchen.
"Son, what's wrong?" Eliza asks in concern.
Philip is breathing hard. His face is flushed, and, I notice, he's not carrying any groceries.
He opens his mouth to speak. "George Eacker just challenged Dad to a duel!"